


Green Eyed Demons

by BazookaMelon



Category: Loki laufeyson - Fandom, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies), Thor Odinson - Fandom
Genre: F/M, yo yo yo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 08:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8571811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BazookaMelon/pseuds/BazookaMelon
Summary: When a girl who's father served Asgard's army until his untimely end is outcast to starve, she's taken in by Asgard's royal family to repay the debt from the many years of unfathomable, loyal service from her father.





	1. Chapter 1

When everything you know is stripped away from you, what do you become? An empty shell, only a crescent of the orb you used to be, or are you reborn into your full potential? I cannot say for sure; it depends on perspective of the victim. Do they see their loss as an opportunity for growth, or as a reason to give up?

 

In one of the nine realms, the realm of Asgard, there was a king and queen; Odin and Frigga. The two of them ruled over their subjects with care and might. Odin was a strong leader with no give when it came to his laws, and he was bringing up two sons, each of which had a shot at the throne. Or so they thought.

The younger of the two sons, as found out, was adopted. A frost giant, or Jötun, from Jötunheimr. Odin knew this, as he found him as a small, abandoned baby in Jötunheimr. He took him in as his own and raised him alongside his son of blood, Thor.

Of course, his youngest was bound to find out his true identity as a Jötun, but Odin would not tell him. Instead he found out himself, blaming Odin for everything – his false chance at the throne, his false childhood, and his false parents.

He tried to take his anger out on Thor, but it did not go well as Thor was stronger than he. The poor younger brother Loki was locked away in the dungeon of the Asgardian castle, not to be released unless there is a true change in him.

 

Asgard had a wonderfully large and dependable army; swordsmen, medical assistants, bowmen; anything you could think of and more. One of which was a father of a daughter and a husband to a wife. He was a bowman, a very highly ranked one; he guarded the throne room and watched over the balconies for invaders. He was the only bowman that would walk within the walls as most of them found swords more convenient for inside.

This bowman could hit a mouse through both eyes from one hundred yards away with his bow minutes after waking up. He was so precise and knowing in his movements that he could never miss. But unfortunately a day came when his regiment was overwhelmed and he was taken down; the most respectable bowman, a teacher, a father, a husband, killed within his own beloved walls.

The daughter and mother could not fathom what to do without him coming home every night to eat dinner with them, to tell them stories before slumber, to wake up their daughter before dawn for bow training before his position started at sunrise.

 

His widowed wife fell ill from sorrow and never recovered, one day refusing to wake up, her pulse stopped and here eyes dead. She still had her daughter, but all she saw in her was her husband, pushing her further and further away from reality. Her bouncy red hair, her green eyes, her sloping nose, her freckles, her perfectly pink lips, her light skin, her long fingers, her proud stance. It was all passed down to her from her father; the mother could not stand to look her in the eyes.

The daughter was left to fend for herself. She did chores and worked for another family, sleeping in their shed with their chickens. She used a thin blanket to cover her from ankles to armpits when she curled up small enough. Her toes curled under and her knuckles turned white. But she didn’t mind. She had a roof over her head, right? That’s all she needed for the time being.

But unfortunately everything good has to come to an end; the family became poor from having another mouth to feed – and a newly full grown mouth at that – and reluctantly had to advise her to find somewhere else to stay. But she didn’t; she went to the steps that lead up to the castle and sat on the edge. Her fingers ran through the grass there; the grass was so long and beautiful. Bright green. It reminded her of her father’s eyes, the colour. The way the sun shone through it in the evening was like when she shot an arrow straight. He was so proud of her; his eyes would light up.

 

She picked the grass, blade by blade, and started weaving them together. She started with a three-stranded weave, left to middle, right to middle, left to middle, right to middle. Then she made it more complicated until she was making cuffs out of grass that she just set aside and looked at until she started the next one.

She sat there for three days weaving grass; the ones she had made on the first day turned yellow and dead by the third day. People started noticing that she wasn’t moving from that spot and a few of the guards reported it to the medical wing in the castle. She was taken in immediately as she was only a hair from death. She had not had water to drink, food to eat, and had hardly slept. They helped her recover; regain her strength.

 

Before she left a guard brought her to a halt, seeing the connection between her and her father. The sunset hair, the pasture eyes. The starry night scattered from ear to ear. He disclosed the connection to the king and he asked for her conference. She entered the throne room to see Odin sitting on the largest, most magnificent throne she’d ever seen. She remembered her father describing it to her when she was young.

_“The mightiest chair sits upon a set of stairs, columns surrounding it like a band of soldiers at its side. It’s rimmed with gold and it shines like a sunrise on the clearest day. The stone itself is polished so smooth that you could see your reflection in the usually matte-textured stone. Then there’s Odin, our king. He sits atop it like it’s his brother. He respects the throne, and it respects him. He wears his golden armor to match the trim and his skin to match the stone. They’re in a heavily admired relationship with one another, and nothing could separate their bond.”_

As she stared at the throne in all of its magnificence she felt her eyes water; it was just as beautiful as she imagined. The king awaited her to meet his eyes, and when she did she thumped her fist over her heart and kneeled in front of him. She knew how manners worked, how to salute the king and show her loyalty. She bowed her head and barked, “My king!”

 

Odin was pleased with her display. He knew that this was truly the daughter of his most wonderful guard – his most loyal bowman to ever step foot in his castle. He rose from his throne, indicating she was at ease. She stood once more, still far below him as he stood at the foot of his brotherly throne, up at least a dozen shallow steps.

“What is your name?” He boomed, his voice loud but unechoing in the large room. She shivered at the sheer volume of his voice, not needing something to make it any louder.

“Kerensa, my king.” She said, trying to keep her voice loud; a difficult task for someone who’s just been nursed back to health and has serious troubles with communicating with people. But communication with royalty was something she learned from her father, so naturally, she’s never forgotten.

“And your father?” Odin asked, raising a heavy eyebrow at her. She swallowed hard and tried to calm herself. Her heart was beating so fast she was sure there was red from the base of her neck to her eyes – lava sitting beneath her skin, glowing brightly, just waiting for people to admire it judgmentally.

“Kerensa Ullrson, my king.” She responded finally, her throat in pain after she spoke; closed and sticky.

 

“Lady Kerensa,” Odin started, his voice quieter now, but still booming, “Welcome to the Odinson family.”

Her jaw dropped in that moment; she must be dreaming. Did she hear him correctly? Maybe she misinterpreted what he had just said to her face, the one with molten rock lingering behind the stars. “You shall receive your courters by nightfall, join us for dinner, won’t you?” He asked, making her cheeks shin almost as brightly as the stars atop her skin.

It’s impolite to turn down royalty. “Of course, my king.”

 

She was introduced to many warriors that evening; Lady Sif being among them. She got quite the look-over from her, but in the end there was acceptance. An understanding between two women making their way to the top – unexpectedly or not.

She was introduced to Odin’s son Thor before dinner; a large man with a large ego, yet modest at the same time. He knew he was powerful and what he could do, but he was not unwise with it. He carried it like a trophy, but not one to show off. One to be careful with.

She asked of the second prince – the one no one had seen in ages, the one supposedly locked away according to rumours. The rumours were true; the second son of the Odinson family was locked in the dungeons of the Asgardian castle for the safety of the realm itself. She couldn’t help but feel sorrow for both Odin and his youngest; how hard it must be for both of them to have such distrust after such a relationship – the one that everyone saw was at least reasonable, if not full. Up until his downfall.

 

She was lead around the castle by Frigga after dinner, shown to her courters. She had her very own bed and her very own blankets – all so big it could fit four of her. There was a closet full of dresses that Frigga admitted she picked herself post her arrival – once she knew that she’d be staying she was on the case.

She also had her very own set of armour, and with it a weapon. A weapon used by her late father that she missed so dearly; his bow and arrow. Not just any set, but his set – his name and status was engraved upon metal, and his fingers had worn into the leather. She went to that first, holding it and remembering when her hands were much smaller, trying desperately to reach around it so she could give it a try.

 

She held it in her now fully sized hands, her fingers long and lanky as they wrapped around the leather. They didn’t quite fit where her fathers had fit before, but she was comforted by the size difference. It made her feel as if she was still a child.

Frigga stood in the doorway with her hands clasped in front of her, watching as Kerensa handled the bow like it was her child, gingerly, but with a wise handle. She knew her way around this bow. She knew the sightline, she knew it was left-handed; she knew that the quiver had been refitted to be angled to the left for easier access to a left-handed man.

She put an arrow to the side of the bow, looking down the shaft of it to the head of her new bed. Frigga watched her as she put backpressure on the arrow, pulling it back to the point that the string was at a ninety-degree angle, even further. But she relaxed the string and stared at the arrow; her father had used it. She knew that much from the slight damage to it. But it had been nicely cleaned and repolished – as though to preserve it.

 

She put it back by the suit of armour that she wasn’t sure how they got so quickly. She didn’t question it though; Asgard is fast working, as everyone knows. She smiled graciously towards Frigga, nodding at her. “Thank you very much, my queen.”

Frigga nodded back, creases forming from the corners of her mouth extending to her nose. She turned and exited the room without another word.

 

Kerensa continued to marvel at the room; the floor, the walls – it was all more than she imagined was in the castle at all. The bed was… magnificently large. She sprawled out on it as wide as she could but neither her hands nor her feet hung off the edges. It was a dream come true after sleeping with chickens with a mere towel as a blanket.

She searched her closet for sleepwear and found a silken nightgown she quickly dawned; it felt miraculous. Like her skin was made of marble and the gown was polishing it, removing every last blemish from her being. She lay in bed on top of the covers, feeling warm from the fires lit in every room. She slept better than night than she had since before her father had died over a year prior.

She was at peace in that moment, and nothing could take it away from her.


	2. Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you need a summary to like what you're going to read then read something else, for reals guys, I'm not just going to summarize what I've written so you can skip out on all my juicy details. I thought you were here for a STORY, not some tHREE WORD PIECE OF CRAP THAT WAS THRUSTED FORCIBLY UPON YOUR EYES.  
> Enjoy Part One, you savages.

She went many days and nights in the castle in pure bliss; eating full meals, sleeping full nights. She even got Odin to grant the family she had stayed with a bit of extra funding for taking care of her the way they did. She was at peace with herself, and that’s all she’d wanted for a long time.  
The only thing off-setting her was that she was supposed to be taken into this family, but she was un-allowed to meet with Prince Loki, Thor’s younger brother. Everyone in Asgard knew what he had done, and she had received all the details to try to turn her away. But she had an undying bond to any family she was in, even if not her original family. She demanded it day after day, but she was declined constantly. They even temporarily took away her status of princess so she had no say over the guards – just until she calmed down about it.  
She spoke to Thor of this.

“I just do not understand how you can welcome me into your beloved family, have me introduced to everyone and continue here for over a fortnight, and not at least introduce me to Odinson’s youngest member.” She complained to him as they walked side-by-side down the hallway. Kerensa had on her armour as she walked, clicking and scraping within it until she got used to how to move fluently.  
“It is only for your protection, sister.” Thor said; he was quick to pick up family terms with me. I’ve been a bit slower, but I respect them like my own, and like royalty – I’ve just started calling him brother. Frigga and Odin are coming even slower. My left leg locked within the armour and I stumbled, Thor helping me to regain balance once more.  
“But I want to meet him – I’m fully aware of the dangers, of his manipulation and eagerness to be set free. I can resist it, I at least want to meet him… brother, please.” I said, letting the term to roll of my tongue – maybe it’ll help.  
It helped.

Thor led me down many corridors, pillar after pillar, column after column, until he swept us down a set of stairs that seemed to go on and on forever. When we reached the bottom it was dark, dank, but lit with a bright white light.  
I forced myself to walk in a way that my armour was silent because I did not want to stand out in this cold, quiet environment. Thor took my elbow gently and led me to where Loki was being held. He was lying down on a sort of sofa, a book held inches above his face as he seemed to be reading. I tilted my head at him as he paid no mind to us. Thor nodded towards me, encouraging me to speak.  
“Prince Loki,” I started, instantly getting his attention from the new voice. He turned his head, lowering his book to rest on his abdomen. He raised an eyebrow, glancing at Thor quickly. “I’ve come to introduce myself formally.” I said, swallowing hard at his intense stare, my nose twitching as my eyes locked on the floor. He sat up, his book sliding onto his thigh.  
“Well, the introduction is yours, my lady. As you already seem to know me.” He said, a crease forming next to the left side of his mouth. I frowned at him in concentration.  
“I am Kerensa Ullrson, and I have been taken into the Odinson family by request of Odin himself.” I said, my chin held high as his smirk faded from his plaster face. “I was outside the castle walls starving as I had nowhere to go. I was taken in and nursed back to health, and before departure called into conference with our king. My father had served many years as his best bowman, and Odin decided to repay the debt small by giving me place to live.”

This got his full attention. He had turned to face me, no longer glancing at Thor. His green eyes were locked on mine – we mirrored each other for a moment. “So you’ve been taken into the castle as a guard?” He asked, gesturing to my ensemble. I raised an eyebrow, looking down at myself.  
“No, my prince. I’ve been taken in as an Odinson.” I said, my voice almost ceasing to exist in that moment – it’s been so surreal for the past twenty-two days. Sleeping in luxury, anxiously waiting to wake up on the streets once more. Possibly beaten, as I was forced off of castle grounds, away from the royal family I now call my own.  
“Have you?” He asked, his expression changing to one I did not recognize. It wasn’t hate, it wasn’t acceptance, it wasn’t envy, it wasn’t relation. He looked almost snide, his face void of any wrinkles or lines that would hint at what he was thinking.  
“Indeed, my prince.” I said, not willing to call him brother, fearing the reaction I may get. Thor intervened the conversation here.

“You were told of a new member in this castle, this is she. Her father served us well, died at Odin’s side honourably.” He started, but Loki put up a hand to stop him there. Thor glared at him, his eyes burning against Loki’s very soul – or at least, that’s how it looked from Thor’s end. Loki seemed impartial.  
“You see, Kerensa, you aren’t the first to be taken into this family – I was before you. As I’m sure you’ve been informed if you’ve made your way down here to see me. Thank you for the wonderful moment, by the way. But I know how it’ll end up for you – you’ll be in the cell next to me in no time.” He said, laying back on his sofa once more and picking up the book off his thigh.

Thor’s face turned red as he was about to start yelling, but he would not dare speak over my hushed voice. “Loki Odinson, my new brother, do not speak of me in that manner. Unlike you I have never betrayed family, even if not my own. I have accepted this family as a willing replacement for my last one that has slipped from between my fingertips. I am not begrudged for them taking me in, but rather, I am thankful. I would be dead by now if they had not.” I said, earning me an eye roll, but I cut Loki off as well.  
“I don’t care what you have to say about me, because the fact is, you know nothing about me, my Prince. You have not dined with me, you have not fought beside me, and you have not taken part in a civil conversation with me. Your judgments you may keep to yourself as they are not wanted on my end.” I said, my voice still hushed, but very direct. Loki stared at the ceiling blankly, his mouth stuck shut – not in a way that he’s been defeated, but as a way to defeat me. But I will not lose to him. Thor tried to take my elbow to lead me away, but I refused.  
I pulled my arm away and slammed my bare fist on the barrier between Loki and I, causing a loud crack to ring through the air. His attention was fully on me once more. “How dare you hold their gratitude against them, insult their name.” I said, my voice wavering quickly from it’s hushed but forceful state previously. It was not a whimper with words behind it. “They gave you everything, lies or no. They fed you, raised you. Maybe they did lie to you, but it was the best they could do at the time.” Loki sat up once more, his back facing me as he looked down to his left, keeping me in his peripheral vision. Thor quietly urged me to leave with him. I ignored him.  
“I do not care what you say about me, but you will not insult the family that is so caring that they have taken me in as their own kin!” I yelled, making other prisoners turn to look. “And one day I will befriend you.” I continued, my voice calm now, smooth like silk. “I will call you my brother, and you will call me your sister.” I said, my hand spreading out over the barrier.  
“You don’t know what you’re asking.” Loki said, his head turned fully away from me now. “You’re asking to befriend a murderer, a greedy prince who never had a chance at the throne, a false prince!” He yelled.

I headed down the hallway with Thor, leaving Loki to himself in the cell. Thor tried to console me, but there was nothing to console. There was a smile on my face, a skip in my metal-clad step. I went to practice with my bow and had more accuracy that I’d had in years. I was hitting my own arrows, chipping wood off of them as I shot – as I had requested wood for lighter flight until I got used to their metal ones.  
Lady Sif came to stand by my side as I took my last arrow and propelled it straight into the target, missing only slightly as she startled me.

“You’re doing very well in practice, Lady Kerensa.” She admired, smiling at my work with her hands firmly at her sides. “Would you like a little practice in close-combat? It may come in handy to know your way around a knife.”  
I looked at my arrows, all close enough to the middle for me to call it a day with my bow. I nodded as I slung it across my upper body. She handed me a rather long knife, at least as long as my forearm, and readied herself. “All right,” She said, bouncing on her toes slightly to make any large movements slightly less anticipated. “Give me your best shot.”  
I frowned and swung, the weight of the knife feeling lopsided and top heavy as it slid through the air like a human body at my fingertips. Ungraceful and not pleasant to look at in the slightest. Lady Sif smiled at me, shaking her head as a chuckle escaped her throat. “We’ve got some serious work to do,” She smiled, switching me out for a smaller knife – more like a dagger.

We worked with the blade for hours, me slicing towards her but never so much as skimming her armor as she would hit me repeatedly with the side of a blade and say “You’re dead,” every time. But it was all in good fun, and we’d arranged to meet again the next day. I went to bed that night, lying my head back on the luxurious bed beneath me that no longer smelled like mossy rivers and ale, but now of grass, earth, and tears.  
It took me many hours to fall asleep each night, my mind wandering here and there, thinking of mother in her last moments. Her screaming whispers for help in my ear, saying she just wanted her husband back. I’d cry along with her, nodding my head and saying that he’d be back soon so she could at least fall asleep that night. I lied to her every night as she got more and more sick. I could’ve been the cause of her death. But no one would know that. Not even me.  
I tossed and turned as I awaited slumber to be forced upon my mind when my body gave out, but it didn’t come. Not until shortly before the roosters started crying and the sun came up to dance through the fields in glowing happiness.  
But before that happened I felt a strange tingle in the back of my mind. It was almost itchy – like I wanted to scratch it, but I can’t scratch the inside of my own head. So I lay there impatiently awaiting the phenomena to pass. But it didn’t, it grew progressively more and more noticeable. I sat up and paced in front of my mirror, my feet slapping along the cold ground. The rest of the castle was in slumber, but I was awake. I should’ve been asleep at this ungodly hour, but there I was. Pacing in front of my new mirror, stopping to look myself in the eye only once in a while.  
Dark circles surrounded my green, dead marbles. My lips were painted red from the colour that should’ve been on the rest of my face. My freckles were spattered across my cheeks differently; it seemed, in the low lighting and lack of sleep. I lay back down on my bed, pinching the bridge of my nose as my legs from my knees down hung off the end.

I opened my eyes to see a figure hovering over me, a face only inches from mine as green marbles matched my owns’ intensity. I lay there still, the colour left in my lips surely disappearing – I couldn’t see who it was in the darkness and closeness. So I lay there helpless as I waited for them to move.  
They stood, allowing me a moment to sit up to get a better look at the figure.

Prince Loki.


End file.
